Read Online The Snow Globe by Judith Kinghorn - Free Book Online Page A

tightly closed; then she turned to her mother, who stared back at her and shook her head:
No.
    No. Noonie was right. It must be left alone. Despite her forgetfulness, her mother still had moments of clarity.
    Mabel cleared her throat. “Mrs. Jessop tells me there might be as much as five inches of snowfall tonight.” It was a start. She had to keep going. “Yes, she says we’re in for a very cold spell . . . and even worse to come in the New Year.” She smiled up at the ceiling: “But a white Christmas will certainly be very pretty . . .”
    â€œIt always used to be so,” said Noonie, eager to take the baton and run with the conversation. “Do you remember when you were young, Mabel? There was
always
snow at Christmas.”
    Mabel tried out a little sound of amusement. It was not the time to disagree with her mother. “Oh yes, always.” She ran her hands simultaneously over the upholstered arms on either side of her chair. It was a struggle, but they had to get back to where they had been, somehow. She looked to her mother for reinforcement.
    â€œOf course, in my day,” Noonie began, a little croaky but nonetheless committed; and Mabel smiled, the warmth of relief flooding her tense body, grateful to her mother for another well-wornanecdote, removing them further from what would in years to come be referred to as the Cigar Incident.
    Daisy’s outburst, her irrational behavior, had been a momentary lapse, Mabel concluded, smoothing out a crease in her crepe jersey dress.
Sometimes we’d
all
like to scream,
she thought. Even she. Oh yes, even she. Though she had long ago learned how to scream in silence, or how to stuff a handkerchief into her mouth. And if she had not, where would she be now?
    But flightiness and sudden rages were, Mabel had read, common traits among modern young women who were given to thinking too much. And Daisy was quite modern . . . Not as modern as Iris, perhaps, but modern enough. And Daisy appeared to think a little too much. She was without doubt the most enigmatic of Mabel’s three daughters, and she would need a certain type of man to cope with such a passion for pondering. Was Ben Gifford the one? Mabel doubted it, and it would be over Howard’s dead body—or so Howard had said at the end of Ben’s unfortunate and overly long stay with them last summer. But there was plenty enough time for Daisy. It was Iris Mabel was concerned about. Iris: There was a conundrum. But before Mabel could contemplate this further, the telephone rang out once more. Iris immediately looked to her mother, who nodded. And they all remained silent as Iris took another call.
    â€œThe
Embassy
? . . .
Tonight?
 . . .”
    â€œAh, sounds like an emergency at the embassy,” whispered Noonie. “Is she very involved there, Mabel?”
    â€œIt’s a club, Mother . . . a nightclub.”
    â€œNo, ’fraid not . . . ’Fraid so . . . Yes, tricky . . . I
wish
 . . . And you, darling . . . Good-bye.”
    Iris sat back down and glanced to her mother: “Awfully sorry. About the telephone, I mean.”
    â€œYou must tell the people at the embassy to send you a telegram in future,” said Noonie. “The telephone line needs to be kept clear for emergencies. Isn’t that right, Mabel?”
    â€œOh my, I almost forgot to tell you all,” said Lily, coming to. “I’ve decided to go with lilac for our guest bedroom. It goes with the fabric I’ve chosen and I’ve always adored that color. Miles says—”
    â€œIf you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to bed now,” said Daisy, interrupting her sister and standing up. “I’m sorry about earlier. It was . . . completely irrational. I don’t know what came over me,” she added.
    â€œEmotions are far better out than